Kartik’s gaze lingered on her, a hint of concern in his eyes. “I know my brother. He’s stubborn, and he carries his wounds like armor. But don’t let that discourage you. He notices more than he shows.”
Rashi smiled faintly, though her heart remained heavy. “Thank you, Bhai. Your support means more to me than you know.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while before Kartik stood, patting her shoulder lightly. “If you ever need to talk, Rashi, I’m here. Don’t forget that.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Rashi oversaw the final touches for the dinner. The dining hall glowed with the soft light of golden candles, their flickering flames reflecting off the ivory tablecloths. The scent of fresh roses filled the air, mingling with the aroma of the exquisite dishes prepared by the kitchen staff.
Priya approached her, her saree shimmering under the chandelier. “It’s perfect, beta,” she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
Rashi’s heart swelled with pride. “I’m glad you’re pleased, Ma. It’s all thanks to your guidance.”
As guests began to arrive, Rashi stood by Priya’s side, greeting each one with grace. Her soft-spoken demeanor and natural elegance did not go unnoticed. Compliments flowed freely, and Priya beamed with pride.
But even amidst the praise, Rashi’s eyes sought Raj. He arrived late, his phone pressed to his ear as he entered the hall. Dressed in a sharp charcoal-grey suit, he exuded an air of authority that commanded attention. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—a flicker of acknowledgment, perhaps. Then, just as quickly, he looked away, his attention drawn to a group of business associates.
Later that night, after the guests had left and the mansion had fallen silent, Rashi found herself in the kitchen, rinsing the last of the dishes. She didn’t mind the solitude—it gave her time to think.
“You didn’t have to stay up doing this.”
The voice startled her, and she turned to see Raj leaning against the doorway. His tie was loosened, and his usually composed face held a faint trace of weariness.
“It’s no trouble,” Rashi replied, setting the dish down carefully. “I wanted to make sure everything was taken care of.”
Raj stepped into the kitchen, his eyes briefly scanning the room before settling on her. “The dinner… It was well-organized. You handled it better than expected.”
Rashi blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected praise. “Thank you,” she said softly, her heart fluttering at the rare compliment.
There was a pause, and for a moment, it seemed as though Raj wanted to say more. But whatever it was, he kept it to himself. “Goodnight, Rashi,” he said finally, his tone neutral.
“Goodnight, Raj,” she replied, watching as he turned and walked away.
Later, as Rashi sat on her bed, her diary open on her lap, she let her emotions flow onto the pages. 
*Today, I saw a glimpse of something in Raj—a sliver of warmth hidden beneath the layers of his cold exterior. It wasn’t much, just a few words, a fleeting moment. But it was enough to give me hope.*
She paused, her pen hovering over the paper. Then, almost instinctively, she began to write:
Raj kya kabhi bhi hum apke dil mein apni jagha bana payenge? , 
kya kabhi app hum apna kahenge?  , 
kya kabhi app humse mohabbat karenge ?
Kya hume apne inn sawalo ke jawaab mil payenge ?